


whispers on skin, tell me you love me

by spyblue31



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyblue31/pseuds/spyblue31
Summary: Jeno has been best friends with Donghyuck for five years, has been sleeping with him for one year, and has been pining for him for nine months.It takes one bad day for everything to spill out.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno
Comments: 32
Kudos: 172





	whispers on skin, tell me you love me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jsnoopy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsnoopy/gifts).



> Dearest Rachel,
> 
> This was originally prompt #00365 from 00FF that I never got the motivation to write. Although you might not have prompted this, I wanted to write you a fic and I thought of you while writing it, so you are my intended recipient. I hope you will like it.
> 
> Songs that inspired me:  
> Opera House by Cigarettes After Sex  
> You Are In Love by Taylor Swift  
> K by Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> Please do heed the tags.

Jeno wakes up and he knows it’s going to be a bad day.

Maybe it’s the fact that he has slept through his first five alarms. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t gone to the laundromat in three weeks, forcing him to wear a blazer in the muggy summer humidity to disguise the fact that his only clean shirt has a hole in the armpit. Maybe it’s that there’s no food for breakfast, and he can’t afford to buy an overpriced pastry on the way to work. Or maybe it’s that Donghyuck isn’t in bed with him.

He’d like to think the first three are real reasons, but Jeno has long since resigned himself to the fact that it’s the last which is the most significant, the other three merely contributory. After a year of sleeping together, Jeno has become used to waking up with Donghyuck in his arms, seeing his sleepy smiles and breathy greetings. But Jeno doesn’t have the time to daydream, not if he wants to arrive at work on time.

Jeno speed-walks to the train station, not wanting to be as unseemly as to sprint, but it’s a very narrow distinction as he hurries onto the platform, his heart pounding as he hears that the subway is about to depart. Two seconds before the doors close, Jeno squeezes his way onto the carriage, earning a dirty look as he gets within breathing distance to a fellow passenger.

It would be amusing since this is the closest he’s been with a woman in years if not for the fact that she places her free arm over the front of her form-fitting blouse, acting as a barrier between their chests. Women only carriages seem like a good idea until it reinforces the idea that women are the temptation when really the problem lays with men. Jeno would dearly like to step back a little, but as usual, the subway is hell on earth, jam-packed with commuters all wearing matching dead-eyed, hollow expressions.

At every minute delay, the doors closing and reopening due to people touching the doors, Jeno’s blood pressure rises, glancing at the smart watch Donghyuck gifted him for his birthday. He devises a plan on how to cut the ten-minute walk from the station to the office in six, which really just consists of _run_. When the subway finally arrives at his stop, Jeno gets off hurriedly, racing to the paradoxically boring blue-grey building that is home to an architecture firm renowned for its inventive and cutting-edge designs.

“You’re late.” His boss points at the large clock on the wall which indicates that it’s fifteen seconds past the hour. “Tardiness is not tolerated in the company. Check your email for the list of tasks for the day.”

His boss leaves but the scent of his cologne doesn’t, wafting in the air like an unwelcome reminder. As Jeno slumps onto his chair, he sees an intimidating stack of bundles that line the space of his desk, blocking the sight of his colleague in the next cubicle over.

He logs onto his email and feels his heart drop. Honestly, Jeno really wishes he had eaten breakfast because there’s no way he’s getting a lunch break if he wants to leave work before the crickets start chirping. Just another day at the firm as an architect in training—the lowest on the totem pole and hence responsible for the most grunt work, but utterly susceptible to the whims of his superiors, i.e. basically everyone else.

There’s really no way to avoid it so Jeno gets to work, plugging away at Hydra’s list—every time he eliminates one, two appear in its place.

At eleven, Jeno goes to the pantry for a coffee break. As the Americano trickles out of the machine with a slow burr, he pulls out his phone, smiling automatically when he sees a text from Donghyuck on his previews.

 **Hyuckie <3  
** _jen!! i’m out! *elmo fire gif* what d’you want for lunch? <3_

Jeno stares at his phone, confused, before he belated remembers that they had made plans to get lunch together after Donghyuck had finished his three-day song writing camp. A pang of longing hits him as he realises that he’s going to have to cancel because he has so much work to do.

 **Jeno  
** _Sorry Hyuck, I don’t think I can make lunch  
My boss gave me so much work :(_

It pains Jeno to actually send that text, staring at his lock screen for a long time, a picture from when they got In N Out on their graduation trip to LA together.

“Have you done all your work already?”

Jeno looks up, nearly dropping his phone at the unexpected presence of his boss. “No, sir,” he replies, tucking his phone into his pocket almost guiltily, something that his boss tracks with eagle eyes. “Not yet.”

“Then why are you on break?” His boss questions, taking the cup of coffee that Jeno had made for himself.

“Sorry, sir.” Jeno doesn’t dare to challenge him. “I’ll do that now.”

Hurriedly, he returns to his desk minus the coffee he left for, but he doesn’t dare to leave again, glancing over at his boss’ desk where he’s talking on the phone with an irate expression on his face.

The issue with working in open style offices is the noise. Generally, people go to one of the unused conference rooms if they have scheduled calls for more privacy, but Jeno’s colleague to his left always takes calls at the desk, broadcasting her voice to the rest of the office.

Usually, it wouldn’t have bothered him as he can focus relatively well, but for the past few days, Jeno’s sleep quality has been poor, and he finds himself more distracted than usual. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the phone call was short, but when fifteen minutes pass, Jeno pulls out his headphones to plug his ears.

He gets to work with the sound of lofi hip hop beats in his ears, taking a stab at that list. He’s making decent progress when the music stops, so he pulls his phone out to choose a new playlist. Right as he does that, he receives a text from Donghyuck, and sees that there’s a picture attached.

 **Hyuckie <3  
** _having lunch now! banh mi time!!  
isn’t she a beaut? look how long and thick she is!!_

Jeno can’t help but smile as he sees Donghyuck’s elated grin as he holds a delicious banh mi stuffed full of grilled pork and brightly coloured greens next to his face, clearly meant to be a scale of reference.

**Jeno**   
_Awww two beauties <3  
Does it taste good?_

Jeno presses send before he can change his mind, blushing at his own cheesy lines, and grins when Donghyuck immediately texts back.

 **Hyuckie <3  
** _super yummy!  
but not as yummy as u though ;)  
wish u were here bb_

Jeno feels the flush on his face spread to his ears. If Donghyuck were here in person, Jeno would have smacked him on the arm, too flustered to actually respond. It’s only just recently that they started exchanging flirty texts, and Jeno always feels embarrassingly giddy to be on the receiving end of Donghyuck’s attention.

A loud _ahem_ breaks Jeno from his reverie.

It’s Kang Jimin, another graduate hire who joined the firm the same time Jeno did. Jimin clears his throat again, looking at him significantly and Jeno furrows his brow. “Do you need a lozenge, Jimin?”

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin huffs, looking over his shoulder to peer at his phone. “So, Jeno—how’s the boyfriend?” he declares loudly, his eyes flicking over to their boss. “You spend lots of time with him—he must be so happy to have such an _attentive_ boyfriend.”

Jeno immediately gets what he’s angling at. From day one, Kang Jimin saw Jeno as his rival at the firm, and sought to undermine him time and time again in front of their boss.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Jeno flushes when the words leave his lips. Foolish, he thinks, and for once, Kang Jimin seems to be on the same page as he is, as he too looks taken aback. Of the two things he said, Jimin seemed to have thought that Jeno would have denied that he was texting on the job, rather than the boyfriend bit.

“Um…” Jimin seems at loss for words.

Jeno takes advantage of this surprising turn of events by spinning back to his computer, returning to his work before Jimin gathers himself for another attack. After a moment, he hears their boss ask testily whether Kang Jimin had a lot of spare time to stare into space in the hallway, and Jimin’s hasty apologies as he walks away.

His shoulders deflate and Jeno glances down at his phone, seeing the picture of them in LA. He might have won the score for that particular battle—not that he was keeping up—but it came at his personal expense. Jeno really wasn’t lying when he said that Donghyuck wasn’t his boyfriend.

They were just really close friends. Best friends. The _bestest_ of friends. But not boyfriends, unfortunately.

In first year at university, through an act of God, Donghyuck and Jeno were assigned as roommates. They got along so well that for the rest of their university years, they willingly chose to room together.

Since they got along so well, they decided to continue to live together after graduation. Except without student loans—and actually needing to repay said loans—living in the city was wildly expensive. Donghyuck worked as a freelance songwriter, which meant his fluctuating income was unattractive to landlords. Although Jeno held a graduate job at a highly respectable architecture firm, his salary wasn’t enough for them to rent a two-bedroom apartment.

They seemed destined to live in a commuter town until someone in Jeno’s office said they had a friend who was leasing a studio in the city. They were in such dire need of a roof on top of their heads that they accepted the place without viewing it. When they moved in, Jeno immediately understood why it was priced so cheaply.

Okay, it isn’t _awful_. It’s located in the city proper, which saves Jeno a long commute. There are many takeout restaurants nearby, so the kitchenette is fine. It’s clean and the neighbours are quiet.

The issue is size—it’s an exaggeration to call it a studio. There’s scarcely enough space for all the essential furniture. Originally, they had planned to get two beds, but because of Donghyuck’s recording equipment, they ran out of room for an extra futon.

Necessity made them sleep together.

It made absolute sense. There’s no space for a sofa for someone to sleep on, and it’s not like one of them is going to sleep on the floor. They had slept on the same bed before on trips, so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Or so Jeno thought.

It’s one thing to sleep on the same bed for three days on holiday, it’s another to do so indefinitely. For one, Donghyuck is a serial cuddler with octopus limbs who latches onto the closest animate object. For another, well… morning wood isn’t a habit that faded like acne and voice cracks with adolescence.

When they roomed together in the years prior, Jeno could at least get rid of the problem in the shower. But this studio was meant for one, so the bathroom didn’t even have a _door_. In university, Donghyuck would be out and about, but since he worked freelance now, he was always home. So even if Jeno had the guts to touch himself in the bed he and Donghyuck shared, he didn’t have the privacy to do it, and he felt much too guilty to even contemplate doing it while Donghyuck peacefully dozed off beside him.

All in all, it was a matter of time before Donghyuck discovered the reason for Jeno’s shiftiness.

Honestly, a part of Jeno still couldn’t believe that Donghyuck, upon waking up to Jeno’s erection pressed against his ass on a lazy Sunday morning, didn’t feel repulsed or tease him for being a horny thirteen-year-old. Just as Jeno scrambled to get away, apologies spilling from his lips, Donghyuck peered at him with half-lidded eyes and asked in a sleep hoarse voice “ _Can I help?_ ” Jeno, still tangled in Morpheus’ net, thought that this was something of a lucid dream, and nodded.

What proceeded was the best handjob that Jeno had ever received in his life.

Of course, Jeno was raised with manners, so it was only polite that he reciprocate the favour. Although Donghyuck protested feebly that it wasn’t necessary, he fell amusingly quiet when Jeno crawled between his spread thighs. His silence lasted two seconds before Jeno wrapped his lips around Donghyuck’s cock, and then he made all sorts of desperate, keening noises.

Afterwards, they went to the GS-25 around the corner for triangle kimbap and coffee milk, and then they went grocery shopping at the neighbourhood mart like they did every Sunday, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jeno thought he had conjured up an elaborate fantasy in his head until they returned home, and he saw the white stain on the grey bedsheets. Donghyuck didn’t say anything as he stripped the linens, only casually remarking that he was going to go to the laundromat the next day, and whether Jeno had anything he wanted to wash?

Since Donghyuck didn’t behave any differently, Jeno swallowed his swirling confusion and followed his lead. They were only two months into a one-year lease, and it was better not to rock not boat. Neither of them could afford the consequences of falling out with each other.

It was a one-time thing, Jeno rationalised to himself, something born from sleep deprivation and kindness.

But one day, Jeno’s boss gave him early leave since they had finished a major project the day before. He arrived home without prior warning and found Donghyuck touching himself, the blankets pooled to his ankles, the setting sun bathing the room in orangey-yellow light, making Donghyuck look like Apollo reborn.

When Donghyuck glanced up with wide eyes, pink flooding his cheeks— _the same pink that coloured the top of his chest, the same rose of his lips, the same hue of his dripping cock_ —Jeno almost tripped over himself as he stuttered apologies, trying to give him space in a place which had none, and then suggested that he leave.

But Donghyuck bit his lip— _pink and plush and heart-shaped, and Jeno was overcome with the desire to bite on that full bottom lip_ —and dragged his eyes over Jeno’s figure, from the form-fitting black slacks that did nothing to hide his rapidly growing bulge to his rolled-up shirtsleeves and his face that felt aflame.

“ _Must you go?”_ Donghyuck asked tentatively, clutching the white duvet to his face but paradoxically made no move to cover his body, and Jeno had to rip his eyes from the stunning contrast of white against tanned skin.

“ _Do you want me to stay_?” Jeno rasped, like a man thirsting for relief in the desert.

“ _Yes_ ,” Donghyuck breathed, and how could Jeno resist the siren’s call?

Jeno knew it was a shipwreck about to happen, but when Donghyuck sang so sweetly as Jeno touched him, he surrendered to his fate.

He first tasted the icy hand of the treacherous water after he came, when Donghyuck was licking his lips with lazy catlike satisfaction, and instead of handing him a tissue, all Jeno wanted to do was to cup Donghyuck’s round cheeks and kiss him.

It was the first time that the impulse struck him. It was a post-coitus feeling, love hormones from the endorphins and nothing more, he told himself, but Jeno felt so rattled that he got up abruptly from bed—Donghyuck’s hand falling down from where he’d been gently smoothing Jeno’s hair, an absent gesture he’d done a thousand times before—and went to take a cold shower.

Jeno was only able to hold onto this rationalisation until dinner, when Donghyuck made spicy ramen on their little electric stove, and despite the fleck of scallion stuck to his teeth, Jeno still wanted to press his mouth against Donghyuck and kiss him breathless. The thought appalled him, because if Jeno was attracted to Donghyuck despite his poor table manners, then it was serious.

The sound of paper against his desk knocks Jeno from his daydream back into the office, right as his boss launches in with no preamble, “Look over this stack of correspondence for me. We informed the client in an email that due to complications, there was going to be a change in payment structure from a fixed fee to a percentage based on the build cost, and the client agreed. Now that we’re finished and payment is due, the client is being obstinate. Compile the emails for me by the end of the day, it’s essential that we get the billing right.”

Jeno stares at the mountain of paper, at least 300 pages thick, and then over at his Outlook list of tasks. He has to apply for planning permission to the housing department, tender a proposal with a specialist construction company, and research about the existing environmental issues of a site to see if it’s suitable. All of his tasks have hard deadlines by the end of the day, and a look at the time has him feeling faint.

Well, he thinks grimly, swallowing down his dread. He’ll have to diarise his despair until after business hours. For now, it’s all hands on deck if Jeno wants to get through this day.

He tears through the first few pages of the documents, but it quickly becomes apparent to him that he’s reading emails from the middle of the project, and he needs to establish the parameters first before he can figure out where they started deviating. This forces him to go to the archives and search for the old bundles, which takes another five minutes. This means he has six hundred pages of documents to read, and a glance at the time shows that twenty minutes has already elapsed, and Jeno starts skim reading to be efficient.

But when he gets to the fiftieth page and he sees a party he doesn’t recognise, Jeno stops, feeling his anxiety spike. By trying to be efficient, he actually wasted more time, and he wants to slam his head against the table. He goes back ten pages, trying to see when they were involved, and he acutely feels every second of time pass him by. He forces himself to read, but the words clump together and swim in front of him, he tries to understand what it says, but his brain won’t absorb anything.

After his third read-through of an email where he understands absolutely nothing, Jeno runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands hard enough that he feels it at the base of his scalp, and smacks his head to will his brain to _focus_. But to no avail, he feels his lungs constrict and he has to fight the blind panic that crashes over him like a tsunami wave crushing a small settlement.

This is stupid, he’s being stupid. He’s gone through the fucking Suneung, five horrible years of unending mid-terms and finals, sat through gruelling entrance exams and job interviews—he’s endured so fucking much just to trip up now and not be able to do his fucking job.

He clenches his hands, telling himself to calm the fuck down, but his heart persists to beat like it wants to jump out of his chest and run to the hills, and it’s so dumb, it’s literally just a few emails, it’s just three more tasks, it’s trivial and—

“Oh, Jimin, you’re done with all of the tasks I’ve assigned you for today?”

“Yes, sir,” comes the sickeningly sycophantic reply. “Is there anything else that I can help you with? It’s an honour to work under you, sir, and I’m eager to learn everything I can.”

Their voices swell above the tide, adding to the dizzying wave of self-loathing and pressure, and Jeno has to stand up, he has to get away before he’s pulled under, before he collapses and drowns in a sea of paper.

Somehow, he finds himself in the men’s toilet, his legs folding beneath him as soon as the door locks, and his vision shrinks with black stars dotting his sight.

Jeno closes his eyes, slumping onto the cold of the divider, his head too heavy to hold up. His breath escapes in short, staccato gasps. If he passed out here, would anyone find him? Would anyone notice that he’s gone?

Kang Jimin is better at the job. Their boss always liked him better than Jeno. Sometimes, Jeno thinks that their boss gives Jeno impossible tasks just to see him fail, so he can write about Jeno’s poor performance in the annual review which gives grounds to firing him.

And instead of fighting back, Jeno’s body is submitting too.

Through the dim, he hears the clatter of his phone falling from the pocket of his trousers, and when he blinks his eyes open, he sees Donghyuck.

 _A text from Donghyuck_.

Seizing on the distraction, he taps on it to read the text, but his hands are shaking so much that he accidentally presses voice call, and Donghyuck picks up before Jeno can press cancel.

“Hello?” Donghyuck’s voice comes clearly and cheerfully through the line, but Jeno’s hands are trembling so much that the phone slips through his fingers. “Hello, Jeno, are you here?”

Jeno attempts to make a sound of acknowledgement, but all that comes out is a helpless whimper of _Hyuck_ , and he hears Donghyuck inhale sharply, like he understands Jeno’s distress.

“Oh, Jeno-yah,” Donghyuck’s voice softens. “I’m here.”

Jeno can’t speak. If he lets go, he’ll lose all his control and burst into tears, and he can’t do that. Not now, not when he has to be a fully functioning, working professional who contributes to society.

“It’s one of those days, isn’t it?” Donghyuck continues, his voice somehow soft but still casual, caring but not piteous.

A sniffle escapes his lips, and Jeno hates himself in that moment. He’s getting all worked up over something that is objectively inconsequential, and it’s honestly pathetic. _He’s_ pathetic. Jeno has a stable job, a decent home, a good family life, and yet he still breaks down over tiny little hiccups.

“I know it must be so difficult for you. I know you’ve worked so hard. I know you’ve tried your best.”

Has he really? If he’s really done his best, how did Jeno end up here, crying over silly emails in the toilet?

“Jeno-yah, will you breathe with me?” Donghyuck asks, drawing his attention. “You don’t need to say anything, just listen to my breathing, okay? Close your eyes and focus on copying my breathing.”

He hears Donghyuck breathing in slowly and thoroughly. Jeno attempts to mimic him, but it’s so damn hard because Jeno’s hyperventilating, and what a loser he is, unable to even _breathe_.

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck says patiently, like he understands Jeno’s dilemma. “We can take it slow. We’ll get there. I know you’re trying, Jeno. Thank you for trying. Just focus on my voice, okay?”

Jeno nods, because he still can’t speak, and he takes a gasping deep breath, just listening to Donghyuck, just trying to fill his head with the warm cadence of his voice, the soothing wash of his tone.

“You’re safe right now. You’re not in any danger. And I’m right here with you.” Donghyuck says. “Now, take a deep breath and inhale, until your lungs can’t take any more air. Hold it for 3, 2, 1. Okay, now exhale fully, and 3, 2, 1.”

Donghyuck guides him through the breathing exercises a few times, and even if Jeno struggles through them, he doesn’t chastise him for doing it wrong.

“Breathe in—good, that’s very good, and hold it for 3, 2, 1. Now breathe out, and 3, 2, 1. Good, you’re so well, Jeno. Let’s do it a few more times, okay?”

When Jeno can finally breathe without feeling like he’s suffocating, the first words that spill out of him are, “I’m sorry. I’m so- I didn’t mean to, I know you’re busy, and—”

“Jeno, darling,” Donghyuck cuts in lightly when Jeno goes gasping again, feeling like he’s able to tumble down the rabbit hole again. “Please breathe for me, okay?”

After Jeno takes a gulp of air, trying to follow the breathing exercises, Donghyuck continues, “You might not have meant to call me, but I’m so glad you did. No really, Jeno, thank _you_ for calling me. Thank you for not hanging up. Thank you for trusting me.”

Jeno swallows, his emotions too turbulent for him to respond.

“I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but maybe you feel ashamed or guilty or that you’re being a nuisance, but I want to tell you that you’re not.” Donghyuck says and Jeno squeezes his hand around his phone, wishing that he could be with him right now.

“Jeno-yah, you are capable and you are strong. This doesn’t define who you are. You’re not any less because of this.” Donghyuck says. “Truly, I do, and don’t try to convince me otherwise, because you know I’m stubborn and this isn’t an argument I’ll let you win, okay?”

Jeno snorts, mumbling, “As if you’ve ever done that.”

“True, true.” He can picture Donghyuck’s smile. “I know this isn’t the best circumstance, but I’m glad you called. I missed you and I missed your voice. And I do mean it when I say you’re so much more than this.”

Tears prickle in Jeno’s eyes and he feels his emotions bubbling, threatening to overflow. Donghyuck is kind, too kind and lovely and patient by far, and how could Jeno not love him?

“I have to go,” Jeno says mournfully, glancing at the time. He’s so drained by the whole ordeal that he only feels resigned now. “I have lots of work to catch up on.”

“I wish you could take the day off, but I know you won’t allow yourself to. Just… take care okay? Drink lots of water. Eat some chocolate, it helps.”

“Yeah.” Jeno knows he should hang up, but he finds himself wanting to stay on the line.

“Okay then,” Donghyuck says softly. “I’ll see you very soon.”

Jeno thinks soon is not soon enough, but the words don’t leave his mouth. Instead, what he says is “Bye, Hyuck. Um… thanks, for everything.”

It doesn’t even begin to cover his gratitude and love, but even if Jeno was good with words, no language could properly convey the all-encompassing mass that are his feelings for Donghyuck.

“Jeno-yah, I’m so proud of you.”

He stares at his screen, until the image of Donghyuck fades to black from disuse. It’s not… he’s not healed or perfect, but he feels less alone, a little less hollow in the chest, and knowing that Donghyuck is rooting for him gives him that push to face the end of the day.

If this was fiction, Jeno would be working at 100% right after the call, flying through his tasks with incredible precision. But he was struggling to complete these tasks even before his anxiety decided to flare up, let alone when he’s drained and sluggish from emotional fatigue. He’s certainly trying his best, but sometimes, his efforts don’t translate into results. By the time six-thirty rolls around, he’s only finished two of the most pressing tasks.

When he sees his boss begin to pack up, Jeno knows that he has to tell him the bad news. The three tasks on his list hold priority as they are time sensitive, but finding those emails could wait until Monday. He steels himself for his boss’ displeasure, absently wondering if his fatigue would dull the impact of the scolding.

Newsflash—it doesn’t.

Nothing about the lashes that come out of his boss’ mouth is unfamiliar to Jeno, having oft directed such criticism to himself, but it still stings to hear the worst of his insecurities repeated out loud from another person.

He’s not fired—there are workplace policies that protect him from arbitrary redundancies—but his boss is definitely unhappy with him, which makes working under him much more difficult. But more than that, Jeno is disappointed in himself, and that’s an even more bitter pill to swallow.

To add to his misery, it’s pouring rain when Jeno finishes his third task, and he doesn’t have an umbrella. It’s not pathetic fallacy, Jeno isn’t egotistic enough to think that his emotions hold any persuasive power. It’s simply monsoon season and Jeno is too forgetful in his haste to pack the umbrella that he left to dry by the door.

Resigning to the fact that he’s about to be soaked to his skin, Jeno steps out of the lift only to stop short.

Sitting on a uncomfortable modern chair in the lobby is none other than Donghyuck, looking distinctly out-of-place in his yellow raincoat and colourful running shoes from all the tailored suits around them.

Jeno doesn’t even have the chance to marvel at this mirage because Donghyuck, as if possessed by some sixth sense, spots him immediately.

He strides towards Jeno with a bright smile. “Hi! I saw that you left your umbrella at home, so I thought I’d come to pick you up from work.” Donghyuck touches his arm in greeting, and it’s that physical touch which tells Jeno that this isn’t a dream.

Jeno isn’t a fan of public displays of affection, but all at once, he wants to throw his arms around Donghyuck. By the skin of his teeth, he restrains himself because he’s at work, and Jeno doesn’t want to invite rumours, not when Donghyuck isn’t even his boyfriend.

It’s been such a rubbish day, but Donghyuck travelled all the way to Jeno’s office in the rain after he came out of a gruelling song writing camp.

He wants to express his gratitude, but all that Jeno is able to say is “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“It’s okay, I’m happy to wait.” Donghyuck smiles, tilting his head. “Shall we head home?”

Jeno nods mutely. Donghyuck tries to pass off the umbrella to Jeno, but he refuses to let Donghyuck get wet, even if he has on a raincoat. The straight umbrella is big enough to cover the two of them, anyways.

Huddled together beneath sheets of rain, Donghyuck places his hand around Jeno’s wrist, stabilising his grip on the handle of the umbrella. He squeezes Jeno’s hand lightly, as if to say _I’m here_.

Since it’s rush hour, the subway station is jampacked with damp office workers itching to get home. Two trains pass before they can finally get on, and Jeno can feel a headache blooming in his temples as people jostle him. When a paunchy middle-aged man raises his arm to grab onto the overhead railing, Jeno wrinkles his nose.

Something touches Jeno’s cheek and he turns to see Donghyuck holding up an AirPod with a raised eyebrow. Jeno nods and he slips it into his ear. The song that flows through his ears is unfamiliar to him, but the husky vocals he knows all too well—this is one of Donghyuck’s original songs.

He’s mindlessly staring at the station board and counting down the stops when he feels Donghyuck staring at him. When he looks over, Donghyuck has a questioning expression which Jeno doesn’t understand until he touches Jeno’s glasses. _Oh,_ he thinks, realising that his glasses are smudged and wet with raindrops, and lets Donghyuck slip them off to clean with the edge of the shirt.

Without his glasses, Jeno’s short-sightedness turns the world out of focus, edges blurring together and colours becoming indistinct. The world becomes flat and everything goes a bit dull, almost like he’s underwater.

Suddenly, the train jolts forward and Jeno slams a hand onto the glass, barely stopping himself from colliding into Donghyuck, who’s leaning against the glass pane.

“Are you okay?” he hears Donghyuck ask, so close that he feels the heat of Donghyuck’s lips against his ears.

Jeno opens his eyes, and his world comes into focus.

Warm brown eyes and smooth tanned skin, rounds cheeks with a smattering of moles, brown hair turning curly from the rain, and that irresistible heart-shaped mouth, currently pursed in concern.

“I’m fine,” Jeno mouths, because they’re so close it’s unnecessary to speak.

Jeno would pull back if he could give Donghyuck a bit more space, but there’s nowhere to go, and he doesn’t think he can even look away from Donghyuck if he wanted to. Jeno becomes acutely aware of Donghyuck’s body, the way he has an arm wrapped around Jeno’s waist to secure him, how Jeno’s body is bracketing Donghyuck, covering him from outside view. It almost feels like they’re in a bubble of their own.

Donghyuck’s eyes flicker from Jeno’s lips to his eyes, and then he swallows audibly.

The rest of the world fades into the background, until the only thing he can see is Donghyuck, with all his little quirks and imperfections, and he can feel his heart—weary and battered from the day—begin to speed up again.

Being face-to-face with Donghyuck without his glasses is scary. The only time that Jeno removes them is when he sleeps or when they have sex, so there are other things to focus on than his bare face. There’s something vulnerable about removing the last barrier between them, for Donghyuck to see Jeno without distraction…

And for Jeno to gaze upon this Donghyuck that he only gets glimpses of in hurried moments, to see him as the most perfect thing in Jeno’s imperfect sight.

It takes four minutes of looking into each other’s eyes for two people to fall in love.

The first time Jeno kissed Donghyuck was on Christmas Eve. Jeno had accompanied Donghyuck to a party in an Itaewon bar hosted by a producer that he worked with. It wasn’t Jeno’s scene, but he attended because he knew these parties were wild and he wanted Donghyuck to be safe. All night, he watched another man flirt and dance with Donghyuck, and when the two of them disappeared from view, Jeno resigned himself to go home alone. And yet, when someone tapped on his shoulder, he whirled around to find Donghyuck holding both of their coats.

As Donghyuck dozed off on Jeno’s shoulder on the subway ride home, Jeno contemplated the reason for Donghyuck’s changing affection. _What are you thinking,_ he wanted to ask, _what do you really feel_?

But Jeno gleaned no answers from Donghyuck’s soft snuffling, so Jeno readjusted Donghyuck to a more comfortable position, placing a hand over the side of Donghyuck’s face to block the harsh fluorescent light.

As they walked back, Donghyuck clutched Jeno’s hand tightly—his shiny Chelsea boots more fashionable than functional on the icy pavement—and he couldn’t resist the need to know, not when Donghyuck looked so content to go home with boring Jeno instead of having an exciting rendezvous with a model.

“ _Love motels aren’t exactly in my budget.”_ Donghyuck had replied.

Foolishly, stupidly, Jeno suggested an alternative location, letting go of Donghyuck’s hand so he didn’t know why Jeno’s hand was sweating despite the icy cold.

Except the silence stretched too long, and when Jeno glanced sideways in confusion, he found Donghyuck unmoving beneath the streetlight.

“ _I don’t want to bring someone into our home_.”

Jeno walked five paces back to Donghyuck, uncertain he heard correctly.

“ _I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave. It’s your home—it’s our home._ ”

There was a stubborn cast to Donghyuck’s jaw and he seemed upset that Jeno had asked, but Jeno could not for the life of him understand why.

Still, Jeno backtracked and apologised, wanting to erase his anger, because while Donghyuck was stunning when vibrant with emotion, Jeno liked seeing him happy more.

Donghyuck deflated and he stared down at his boots, like the quickfire fight exhausted him too. Silently, he extended a hand to Jeno, who took it without question.

“ _Look at me?_ ” he asked, and Jeno lifted his eyes from their joined hands to look at him.

Beneath the yellowy streetlight, Donghyuck was otherworldly. Donghyuck, all sharp words but softly shaped, seemed especially tender in this ambient glow.

Donghyuck held his gaze, and Jeno—despite having not drunk a single sip of alcohol—couldn’t feel the lash of the wind or the sting of the cold. He was captivated by Donghyuck—whose eyes were so intense, so searing that Jeno felt swept away. He felt his heart accelerate, realising that Donghyuck was seeing Jeno—seeing all of him, and Donghyuck wasn’t looking away.

Jeno whispered his name, and Donghyuck blinked, as if he was spellbound, as if he was as taken by Jeno as Jeno was by him. And the most magical thing happened—Donghyuck _blushed_.

Ursa Minor seemed starker against Donghyuck’s rosy cheek, and in Seoul, where man rivalled stars, Jeno found Polaris in Donghyuck, his North Star that guided him home.

It wasn’t the siren’s song anymore, it was the lighthouse in the dark, welcoming him home.

When Jeno kissed Donghyuck, he was at peace. He was in love.

And maybe it was convenient to kiss and fuck your roommate. Maybe it was familiarity in being with a friend. Maybe it was the belief that you could trust your best friend to take care of you.

Whatever reason Donghyuck chose, Jeno let him, just for the chance of being able to love him.

By the time they arrive home, Jeno is wet, miserable and thoroughly sick of mankind. Curse these urban planners with their lack of designated pedestrian sidewalk on residential streets. On their way back from the subway station, a car had drove scarily close to them and Jeno—who always walked on the outside when he was with Donghyuck—had got soaked from head to toe with dirty, stagnant water.

To make matters worse, when he got home in his soaking wet clothes and shoes, the lightbulb—which had always flickered a few times before it came on—sputtered and then decided to die an untimely death.

Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, it seems.

The sun having long set, the studio is pitch black, and Jeno can barely see his fingers right in front of his face, let alone the shoe rack by the door, which he accidentally kicks as he blindly stumbles in.

Jeno glares at the direction of the shoes, valiantly trying to suppress the urge to kick it. When Donghyuck places a hand on his shoulder to urge him to walk inside, Jeno barely stops himself from shrugging him off.

It’s just so… so _frustrating_. Usually, he wouldn’t have minded, but today, it seems like the world is deliberately out to get him, as self-centred as that sounds.

“It seems like this is my chance to light up the IKEA tea candles,” Donghyuck says lightly. “Any preferences as to colour?”

He grunts, yanking off his wet blazer and almost ripping off his shirt when he’s unable to undo the buttons. He’s going to have to get his blazer dry-cleaned, as if the laundromat isn’t expensive enough.

“Jeno-yah,” Donghyuck suggests softly, “why don’t you go take a shower while I sort this out?”

Jeno exhales harshly. It’s probably for the best that Donghyuck sends him away with his atrocious mood.

The water beats hot and strong against his back, almost punishing in its intensity. Jeno closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the tiles, willing the water to wash away his troubles, and yet the thoughts don’t dissipate. As he washes his hair, he feels the inevitability of Monday, where he’ll have another long list of tasks, and potentially another debilitating episode which will hamper his performance. The familiar flare of anxiety hits him again, and no matter how loud the water, it doesn’t drown out the fear. It curls around his neck, whispering that the annual review is coming up, and it only takes one bad deed to stain his good standing. A good opinion once lost is lost forever.

The longer he stands in the shower, the larger his worries grow, until he feels none of the relaxation he ought to have and only the worry that his water usage is damaging the environment. By the time he gets out of the shower, he feels more drained and defeated than ever.

Donghyuck turns around at his entrance, smiling, “I ordered Chinese. Come take a seat.”

Jeno does as he’s told, and Donghyuck passes him a glass of Coke filled to the brim with ice. As he undoes the cling film wrapped around the food, Jeno sees that Donghyuck ordered jjamppong for him.

Despite his lack of appetite, Jeno dutifully eats the serving in his bowl, knowing that he should eat at least one meal. He nibbles on the piece of tangsuyuk that Donghyuck places on his plate, finding it crispier than usual.

“Did you order from somewhere different?”

“Hmm?” Donghyuck looks up from where he’s placing more food on Jeno’s plate. “No, same place. Why?”

On closer examination, Jeno sees that instead of pouring the sweet and sour sauce over the pork like Donghyuck usually does, he had left it in the container the way Jeno preferred it.

“Nothing.” Jeno mumbles, sighing internally at the imminent question that Donghyuck is going to launch.

Except… it never comes. When Jeno looks up from his food, he realises that it’s quiet. Other than the soft jazz—since when did Donghyuck like jazz, he thinks, bemused—from the LP player, there’s no sound but them eating. Donghyuck seems entirely oblivious to Jeno’s internal query, his cheeks round with food, seemingly entranced by the flickering flames of the white tea candles dotted around the table like little floating lanterns.

Donghyuck is rarely quiet over dinner. They’ve had fights because Donghyuck had been annoyed over Jeno’s monosyllabic answers, stating that Jeno wasn’t interested in what he did, when Donghyuck always asked about Jeno’s day. It’s strange that Donghyuck has nothing to say since he’s been at song writing camp for the past three days, and he would usually be bursting with stories to tell.

 _He’s doing it for me_ , Jeno realises belatedly, his mouth going dry.

Donghyuck isn’t pressing him for conversation because he knows that Jeno isn’t capable of holding one now. Donghyuck ordered jjamppong for him because he knew it was Jeno’s favourite, even though all these years, Jeno has never cleared up Donghyuck’s misconception that he prefers jjajangmyeon.

Just when Jeno thought he couldn’t love Donghyuck more, he sees Donghyuck had placed the sunflower that Jeno got him in a mug on the table.

Donghyuck’s warmth and magnetism reminded Jeno of sunflowers, his favourite flowers, not least because Jeno loved to eat sunflower seeds. A few weeks after they started kissing, when Jeno was at Daiso, he saw they were selling fake sunflowers.

Jeno claimed to have bought it to brighten up the studio and he let Donghyuck tease him for being cheap, but the truth was that he didn’t want to buy flowers just to see them fade, unable to trace the beauty in the wilted yellow blooms that had made him pick and destroy it. He wanted something perennial and everlasting, because the sun’s magnificence should never set, just like Donghyuck.

Just the thought about how caring Donghyuck is while he’s been so ungrateful and surly makes guilt pool in his stomach. Is that any way to treat the person he loves? Donghyuck goes above and beyond his duties as a best friend and roommate, and Jeno, despite being in love with him, gives nothing in return.

After they finish eating, Jeno volunteers to wash the dishes because there’s not much that he can do. Donghyuck tries to protest, but Jeno levels him with a look, and he relents. Donghyuck places a few candles by the sink so Jeno can see what he’s doing, and it’s this subconscious thoughtfulness that makes him so easy to love.

Shame overcomes him when he realises how Donghyuck tries so hard to help him. Jeno knows he doesn’t deserve Donghyuck, he doesn’t know why Donghyuck cares so much for him, but Jeno’s a selfish bastard who’ll take what he can get, even if he feels completely inadequate.

Jeno hears Donghyuck fiddling with the LP player and glances over. From Donghyuck’s silhouette, he sees the curve of Donghyuck’s waist through his billowy striped shirt and the long, lean length of his legs in those tiny shorts, and then—

The plate is broken.

“Jeno, are you okay?” Donghyuck exclaims, hurrying over. “Are you hurt? Come here, be careful with your feet, the porcelain’s sharp!”

Jeno lets Donghyuck tug him over, his eyes still on the shards on the floor.

“That’s your mum’s plate,” he murmurs faintly.

“Hmm?” Donghyuck asks distractedly, pulling out the broom and dustpan. “What’d you say?”

“That’s your mum’s plate,” he repeats, and then he realises what he’s said. “Oh my God, Hyuck.” He stares, horrified, at the jagged shards of white on the ground. “I dropped your mum’s plate.”

All at once, a crushing wave of guilt and unworthiness and anger slams into him, choking him in its grip. How could he be so _stupid_? How could he get such a simple thing wrong? Was he really this incompetent that he couldn’t even wash a few dishes without breaking something? Jeno wanted to show that he was deserving of Donghyuck, and yet he broke his mother’s plate.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes, the shame bearing down hard on his chest, making it hard to breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a plate, I can get a new one.” Donghyuck says distantly, and it’s like his ears are ringing.

“It’s your mum’s, and I broke it, and I just wanted to help, and—”

Jeno wants to explain to Donghyuck that he didn’t mean to and he’s so sorry, he’ll do better. There’s so much that he wants to say but he can’t, his brain sparking with a million trails of thought and his mouth too clumsy to seize upon a single one, all his words sound stupid or insincere, and he can’t get enough air into his lungs, and—

“Jeno.”

Donghyuck’s face floats into view, and he looks upset. Is he upset at Jeno? Jeno is sorry—Jeno is so sorry.

“Jeno please.” Donghyuck looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “Please breathe. I promise I’m not upset at you. Jeno, can I touch you? Jeno-yah, can I hug you, please?”

Of course, Donghyuck can hug him, of course he can. Even though he can’t quite understand why Donghyuck would want to, it would be nice to have a hug. It would be nice to have Donghyuck’s arms around him when Jeno feels like he’s slipping, like he doesn’t really exist.

Donghyuck’s shoulders are trembling, but he’s soft and warm and he smells like home. Donghyuck clutches at Jeno tightly, the same way he does when they’re watching a horror movie together and he’s scared. Donghyuck cards his fingers through Jeno’s hair, clinging onto him like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.

He doesn’t understand—why does Donghyuck put up with him? There’s something wrong with Jeno, he can’t do anything right. He can’t even breathe properly, let alone do the dishes or his fucking job—it’s a fucking joke.

“Jeno,” Donghyuck asks, pressing a hand over Jeno’s heart, “will you breathe with me, please?”

For Donghyuck, anything.

He goes through a series of breathing exercises with Donghyuck, and slowly, the pressure in his chest lessens and his heartrate subsides. An indefinite amount of time passes before Jeno becomes aware that they’re sitting by the sink, two feet away from the bed, and there’s shards from the broken plate still on the floor.

Donghyuck notices his gaze and he moves to block his sight. “Jeno-yah… why don’t you get ready for bed?”

There’s a part of Jeno that wants to argue, feeling like a patronised child sent to bed, but there’s another part of him that’s weary and knows it’s for the best. He’s probably the biggest hazard in the studio right now.

After Jeno brushes his teeth and gets into bed, he realises just how exhausted he is. It’s early for him, it can’t be past ten o’clock, but Jeno is utterly shattered, wrung out like an overused towel. The events of the day are catching up to him and devoid of emotional energy, he muses objectively that he overreacted. It was just a plate, and yet, for no rhyme or reason, he panicked. But worse of all, he distressed Donghyuck. It’s not fun to have an anxiety attack but worrying Donghyuck… that’s the part he feels guiltiest about.

He watches with sleepy eyes as Donghyuck blows out the candles, the hem of his shirt fluttering like a butterfly’s wing with the wind from the fan. After the last candle is snuffed out, the room is submerged into darkness, and Donghyuck sinks into bed, sighing quietly.

Donghyuck throws an arm around Jeno’s waist, tangling their legs together, and he smells like clean cotton and Jeno’s aftershave. He’s warm and soft and so very secure, and Jeno feels like a man who has experienced a thousand storms at sea, finally returning to sturdy land.

The singer on Donghyuck’s LP player croons longingly, wishing for their lover to come back, and Jeno feels a stab of melancholy.

_I remember when I first noticed that you liked me back.  
We were sitting down in a restaurant, waiting for the check.  
We had made love earlier that day with no strings attached,  
But I could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then.  
Kristen, come right back, I’ve been waiting for you to slip back in bed when you light the candle._

“I’m sorry.” Jeno says, the words slipping out. “I didn’t mean to overreact.”

The blanket rustles as Donghyuck moves to squeeze Jeno’s hand. “You don’t need to apologise to me.” He says, “Besides, you didn’t overreact. You didn’t choose it. You’re so composed, I know you wouldn’t behave like that if you could, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for the way you acted.”

“I know but I just don’t want to worry you.” Jeno stares at the wall. “You have a lot on your plate.”

“I know you don’t want to worry me; if you could, you’d shoulder all of your burdens by yourself. But I want to know.” Donghyuck says earnestly. “I don’t want you to selectively tell me things to keep me happy. I’m not a fair-weather friend, I’m not going to leave you because it’s tough. I want to brave storms with you, I want to be there through hell and high water with you.”

With how Donghyuck is clenching his hand, Jeno feels the press of his titanium ring, the twin to the one on Jeno’s ring finger. Jeno had chosen titanium over gold not just because of the price point, but because of its incredible durability. Even the strongest of pressures and the hardest of blows wouldn’t scratch titanium.

“It’s not that I think you’ll leave, necessarily.” He says haltingly, twisting his ring around his finger, feeling the curve of the infinity sign engraved along the back. “I just… I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Donghyuck is quiet for a moment, and then he chuckles wryly. “If you could see yourself from my eyes, you’d never doubt my words.” He skims the back of his fingers along Jeno’s arm, and Jeno shives, goosebumps arising from his touch.

When Jeno looks into the mirror, he sees someone a log adrift, struggling to stay afloat. What does Donghyuck see? His physical appearance, maybe? Donghyuck did find him attractive enough to sleep with, after all.

“I wish you would believe me when I say that I think you’re strong and capable and intelligent and good.” Donghyuck says quietly. “I wish you would believe me genuinely without thinking that I’m biased or being kind or viewing you from a pedestal. Every time that I see you berate yourself for being a fraud or blame yourself for something, I want to tell you that it’s not true. You _are_ good enough, you have earned everything that you have and you deserve so much more.”

Jeno doesn’t know what to say, flustered and uncomfortable. He can’t say _respectfully, I think your opinion is wrong_ because Donghyuck never thinks he’s wrong. And there’s a different part of Jeno—a miniscule part of him—that yearns to hear it, that wishes despite all odds it’s true.

“Hyuck, I…” he trails off, unable to find the words.

“I know,” Donghyuck says, heartbreakingly soft. “You don’t need to say anything, I just want you to know.”

“I can’t fight your demons for you, but I can be there every step of the way with you.” Donghyuck traces soothing little patterns onto Jeno’s bare back. “And I’ll believe in you enough for the both of us, until one day, you’ll believe in yourself too.”

Jeno feels like his breath is caught in his throat.

“And if I never?” Jeno breathes out.

Donghyuck doesn’t falter, his lips brushing against the nape of Jeno’s neck as he whispers, “It changes nothing, because you don’t need to believe in yourself for me to believe in you.”

All his life, Jeno has only ever been told that no one is going to believe in him unless he believes in himself. And because Jeno doesn’t, therefore no one does.

How can Donghyuck believe in him unwaveringly, refusing to stop even though it might be futile? Why does he waste his time on a lost cause?

“Why?” he asks, lost.

Jeno waits, but Donghyuck doesn’t reply for a long time. He might have thought Donghyuck had fallen asleep, but he feels Donghyuck tracing shapes on his back, his index finger swirling over bare skin.

He resolves to sleep, to let this be another conversation said in the quiet of the dark, acknowledged but unspoken in the day. But then, Jeno’s mind starts to catalogue the pattern of Donghyuck’s touch, the way it’s shaped like letters, and then…

Donghyuck exhales, murmuring faintly, “Nope, still can’t say it. Still not brave enough.”

He drops his arm with a sigh, the sheets rustling as he turns to face the other side.

All of Jeno’s drowsiness fades away, leaving heart-pounding adrenaline, a racing disbelief coursing through his veins, because—

 _I love you_ , Donghyuck whispered on his skin, tracing it over and over until Jeno could feel it sink into his skin like a tattoo.

Jeno almost doesn’t want to believe it, but why would Donghyuck lie? What theory could possibly explain this but the most straight-forward answer?

Sometimes, the truth doesn’t need to be complicated. Sometimes, it can be easy and simple.

If Donghyuck believes in Jeno enough for the both of them, then Jeno would like to be brave enough for the two of them.

The scant centimetres that separate them on this bed feel like oceans, but Jeno—who doubts himself and considers everything from every angle—chooses to take a leap a faith, he chooses to believe.

He chooses Donghyuck.

Jeno turns on his side and wraps his arms around Donghyuck, who tenses immediately.

“I love you too.”

Jeno’s heart is racing with nerves, but he knows that even if he misunderstood, Jeno could trust Donghyuck not to break him.

“I love you, not just because you _love me_ , but because you’re patient and thoughtful and you make me feel the joy in living, like I’m not merely existing but truly alive when I’m with you.”

Donghyuck sags in Jeno’s arms and then turns so that they’re face-to-face.

Even though it’s dark, Jeno has memorised Donghyuck’s face, able to map out his features. Jeno cups Donghyuck’s cheek, thumbing over the points of Ursa Minor, finding home in his face.

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispers, his lips brushing against Jeno’s palm, over the heart line. “I love you, truly.”

“Even when I’m…” Jeno trails off, and then continues, emboldened when Donghyuck reaches up to squeeze his hand in support. “Even when I’m not very good or nice?”

“Especially then,” Donghyuck promises, pressing a kiss against Jeno’s ring finger. “I love you on your best days and worst days. I love you when you’re explaining a project with too many technical terms and when you’re going cycling enthusiast on me. I love you wholly, truly and completely, and not just parts of you.”

“God save me,” Jeno mutters, astonished and blinking. “Because I think I believe you, even though...”

“I know it’s not going to be easy and this isn’t some magical cure,” Donghyuck says, running a hand through Jeno’s hair, his touch achingly gentle. “No matter what happens, I’ll always believe in you. My faith in you doesn’t stem from blind love, but it’s rooted from a solid foundation of friendship and integrity. And all the reasons why I believe in you just made me love you more.”

“Oh.” Jeno says eloquently, and then surges forward.

Jeno brushes his lips against the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth, and the surprised squeak Donghyuck emits makes Jeno giggle, and then they’re both laughing because they’re ridiculous.

God, Jeno is so dizzyingly in love with Donghyuck, he feels like he might power a carnival with his pure joy.

When they settle, Donghyuck places a hand on Jeno’s cheek, guiding him forward. “Let’s try this again.”

This time, Jeno kisses Donghyuck, feeling him smile against his lips, the minty taste of his toothpaste sweet and addictive from the overwhelming elation of knowing that Donghyuck _loves_ him. Donghyuck’s warm, plush lips move against Jeno’s in light teasing pecks that have him whining at the back of his throat, leaning forward to chase after Donghyuck.

Donghyuck lets Jeno catch him, lying on his back as Jeno hovers over him. Electricity fills the air as they stare at each other, and Jeno has never known want until he sees it reflected in Donghyuck’s eyes, feeling the ghost of Donghyuck’s breath caress his mouth. When Donghyuck kisses him again, he captures Jeno’s bottom lip between his, gently tugging and sucking at the underside, sending sparks up Jeno’s spine and making him moan.

Donghyuck kisses him until Jeno is breathless and panting for air, and then he realises something.

“So are we…” Jeno swallows, his lips tingling, “ _together_?”

Donghyuck laughs, the sound so bright it feels like the sun is piercing through grey skies. “I think we’re already together in everything but name, but yes, let’s.”

If there was light, Donghyuck would see the goofy beam that splits across Jeno's face, but he can certainly hear Jeno’s wholehearted adoration when he blubbers “I love you” between kisses.

Being safe at home, wrapped in Donghyuck’s arm, kissing the lips of his boyfriend—well, maybe today isn’t such a bad day after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Months ago, I signed up for 00FF while I was laden down with other fic deadlines, and told my friend that I was only going to write a short fluffy story. Instead, what happened was that I got super burnt out and had to drop out of 00FF. 
> 
> Somehow, while I was at my busiest with real life obligations, the escapist desire to write fic struck me and I churned this out in a few days.
> 
> Rachel, I would dearly like to write you a Jaewoo bed story, alas the enigmatic Jungwoo escapes me as much as he escapes you. Instead, please enjoy a Nohyuck bed story lol. 
> 
> Honestly, this story was meant to be short and fluffy. Well, I suppose depending on the person's criteria, this could still fall under the category of short and fluffy. It has a happy ending and it's definitely on the shorter end of the spectrum of fics I write. Therefore, I'm still correct lol.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this. Please leave me a kudos and comment if you did, it means the world to me! All the best x
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/spyblue31)


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